


skip town, slow down, push it to the east coast

by craftingdead



Series: charlie will make cd a common tag if it kills them [4]
Category: The Crafting Dead
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 16:53:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15295920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/craftingdead/pseuds/craftingdead
Summary: DAY ONE.





	skip town, slow down, push it to the east coast

**Author's Note:**

> dead disco - metric

DAY ONE.

 

Jessica Fenix lets out a fluttery sigh as her headphone dies. Right ear, as usual. Attempting to twist the cord around into vaguely pretzel-like shapes does nothing to spark it back to life, and Jess has to come to the conclusion that her headphones are nearly dead. Metric blares from her left ear, static-y and uncomfortable, and Jess forces herself up to a sitting position.

Today, she must do the unthinkable, and wander out into the streets of Greenfield to find a new pair of headphones. Some stores must have them, right? They’d have too, it’s not like the world ended and everyone was like, “Quick! Grab every pair of headphones in the world!”

The music blinks out. Jess frowns and checks her phone, only to see a black screen. Upon clicking the power button for a few seconds, and being met with nothing, her frown turns from a frown to a glare.

The dead battery sign flashes up at her.

Fuck.

 

DAY THIRTEEN.

 

The cut down her cleavage is bleeding lightly, trickling blood down onto her stomach and staining her shirt red.

Jess almost laughs as she shoves several tissues down the front of her blouse—she didn’t have any bandages on her at the time—and takes off down the street, a small horde of zombies on her heels, shotgun banging against her back and making her wince every time it slams into her spine.

She was practically living fanservice at the time, being forced to shove tissues down her chest to prevent herself from bleeding out and exposing a single inch of skin in the process. How scandalous! A maniac giggle rises in her throat.

Jess blinks and shakes her head hard. The apocalypse must be getting to her, she never had thoughts like this before the end times. She needs to stop focusing on whether or not her chest was exposed and think about the deep red blood on her skin and clothes.

(A realization a few hours later would haunt her into the night and the day after. Her father would always scold her if she flinched away from blood, always saying, “It’s in the family name! Fenix means something for a reason!” and teaching her not to be afraid while bleeding. But with a cut this deep she was so, so scared and so, so ashamed of it. _I’m sorry, Pops_.)

 

DAY THIRTY-FIVE.

 

The apocalypse is definitely getting to her.

She had gotten so excited about the new sniper rifle she found that she immediately shot out a window with it, barely flinching at the noise or the way zombies crowded around her and the building. Jess fought her way out, naturally, but it barely bothered her, unlike before.

Jess didn’t know which was scarier, the apocalypse or growing used to the apocalypse.

 

DAY FIFTY.

 

She found a railway underneath the city. It had lead to so many new places; a mall filled with shops and stores; different blocks with more buildings than she thought humanly possible to have in a city; a bunch of zombies waiting to kill her. Basically, it was the jackpot.

Living was going to be so much easier with this around. If only Jess could find a way to clear out the zombies…

 

DAY SIXTY-ONE.

 

In the last week, two different boats had shown up, similar in size and appearance. Jess didn’t know what that meant, but it scared her, knowing more people could be in this city. She didn’t want a repeat of what happened with the caravan. Not now, not ever.

She was gonna lie low for a while and see what happens.

 

DAY ONE HUNDRED AND SEVEN.

 

Jess had been lying low for a very long time. She needed supplies. She needed ammo, food, water, fresh air, toothpaste (what? A girl liked to stay clean and hygienic!) and many other things. She couldn’t live like this forever.

So, with her gun bag slung over her shoulder, a granola bar in her back pocket and her trusty old shotgun in hand Jess bid farewell for now to the apartment she had barricaded herself in and took her first step out onto Greenfield’s infested streets for the first time in god knows how long (a month, she later learned).

It should be a short trip, nothing too fancy. Just in and out. In and out...


End file.
